


Farewell

by sjipsco



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, i don't ship dettlaff/syanna i just put that tag b/c they're together in canon, regis and detlaff are blood brothers meaning they're related by blood so understand that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 02:31:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14728277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sjipsco/pseuds/sjipsco
Summary: why does either dettlaff or syanna have to die, why cdprthis is basically a short rewrite of the quest "tesham mutna" from the blood & wine expansion pack (this fic assumes the player has completed "beyond hill and dale...")





	Farewell

**Author's Note:**

> this may be totally unrealistic i suppose, but kind of ok, considering dettlaff has incredibly little characterization in canon so basically anything makes sense, i made this b/c i dont want my boy dettlaff to die but i also dont want syanna to be let off the hook
> 
> also the third person POV kind of jumps around a bit i guess it's like third person omniscient maybe

“That which bound us, was only a ruse?”

“Detlaff, it’s not that simple, I-”

“Oh, but it is. You either deceived me... or not.”

Geralt drew his silver, took a fighting stance, and approached. But he paused, and did something unexpected to even himself.

He stood upright, held his right arm out to his side, and dropped his sword.

It clattered to the ground, distracting all present. Regis shot Geralt a fearful, yet hopeful look. Geralt did not look to him, as much as he wanted to assure him that no harm would be done. To anyone.

Geralt calmly approached Dettlaff and Syanna, two figures stood under the moon enveloped in their own dismay and anger.

“Witcher,” Dettlaff warned with a low growl to his voice, “stay out of this.” He eyed him not unlike a trapped alley cat, not yearning to fight, but quick to lash out if provoked.

Syanna surprisingly did not seem grateful for Geralt’s interference, either. She scowled slightly at him, not uncharacteristically so. Her face bore much resemblance to Anna Henrietta’s displeased visage.

“I am not protecting Syanna. She used you.”

“You confirm it? You admit it?”

“She used you for a bloody revenge, one that devastated many... and one like the revenge you are exacting at the moment.”

“I- Her manipulation was not revenge. It was a series of heartless, calculated murders. She-”

“Did it ever occur to you why she wanted these men dead? Why she used you?”

Dettlaff grew silent, conflicted. He did not like speaking to the witcher, did not like this entire situation as a whole. He wanted to wipe his hands clean of the murders he had committed for Syanna, disappear into the night, and never return to Toussaint. He glared at Syanna, dissatisfied and uncertain. “Speak.”

“The... bastards you killed... were no gallant knights.” She angrily drew a breath, unhappy that Geralt and Regis had learned her past in their research on the ducal family. And she was about to divulge her past, her past that she hated so fiercely, to another. “They drove me out. Of Toussaint. Under their hand, I was exiled from my home... my family. I had no one. When my father gave the order, they happily obliged to run me out. They called me, names that I cannot repeat, even after I’ve lived amongst bandits for the past 10 years of my life. They... starved me. Beat me. Treated me poorer than livestock or a stray dog. And they hurt me in other ways...”

Dettlaff tried to convince himself that she lied, as she had lied to him during this entire situation... but he did not sense fear from her, not fear of him, or fear of her past. She had never feared him. Why couldn’t she? 

He took a step away from Syanna, shortly paced the grounds. Dettlaff remembered his encounters with one of the knights before he had been ordered to butcher him... he seemed noble, kind. He had stood up for Dettlaff, shown decency uncommon in humans... 

“Count de la Croix would never.”

“Count de la Croix was a rapist,” Syanna bit back, the justified hatred for her abusers glaring in her eyes.

Dettlaff was alarmed for a second, but then merely sighed in contempt. “Humans... each one deceitful and guilty.” He sharply glanced at his brother, Regis, who showed evident disagreement for that statement, but also did not mourn de la Croix’s death now that he had heard the truth. 

Dettlaff looked down. “Why did you use me? Why not kill on your own, commit these murders yourself? You used to boast about how many have fallen to your blade-”

“I... I may be an efficient leader of bandits and thugs, but I cannot move as light as fog, cannot become invisible... cannot enter buildings unnoticed, exit without alerting a single guard...”

“I’m a tool to you.”

“It was not always that way.”

“You would use me for killing, but not simply tell me the reasons why? I don’t understand...”

“I... I didn’t want to contact you again.”

“I was not always a tool to you, but I was meaningless enough to not be worth the courtesy of a goodbye?”

“You scared me.”

“I- You laughed when I bared my fangs, drew my claws... You said I looked like a housecat. ... Scared?”

“You loved fiercely... I cannot explain how I felt.” Syanna looked away.

Dettlaff looked to her for explanation.

“It was infatuation, Dettlaff... nothing more. I did not want anything more.”

“... I see.”

Syanna looked back towards him.

“I would have killed for you, willingly.”

“I know.”

Geralt glanced to his good silver sword laying on the ground, etched runes glowing in the darkness. It caught the light of the full moon, glinting back at Geralt. He then looked to Regis, whose reflective eyes performed in the same manner as he looked from Dettlaff and Syanna back to the witcher.

“Those men deserved to die... but Beauclair does not. The vampires will have left the city by dawn.”

Syanna was silent, but stared at him.

“You live short and pitiful lives, but they’re far from free of horrors. I will leave here. Go far from men. I will not return.” He turned to Geralt, who had been overseeing the entire conversation. “But I assume the witcher needs to present the Beast’s head on a silver platter to the duchess.”

Geralt looked him directly in the eyes. “He does not.”

Dettlaff looked away, then to Regis. “I have never met a witcher that would let a contract go... but now I know two vampires who would not kill a witcher. The world must be coming to an end.”

“No, my friend,” Regis assured, “It is merely changing.” He greeted him with a sad smile, knowing his blood brother’s course after dawn broke. He was silent for a few seconds, then spoke again, “The moon is still full. There is still time to fly.”

“I will. I will... Stay in Toussaint. If you follow me to Nazair-”

“I will not. I swear. And I have no reason to,” he added. “Though if you ever find yourself in trouble-”

“If I need your help,” Dettlaff corrected, sternly but friendily, “I will call.”

“Good luck to you, my brother.”

“To you, as well. I now understand.”

“About Syanna?”

“I understand... that the witcher is part of your pack. Although a strange one.”

Regis stammered for a second, and Geralt felt confused, yet proud and damn thankful that he had not needed his sword.

Dettlaff clapped Regis on the back gently. “I know it is so.”

“I suppose so, yes.”

Dettlaff turned to address both Geralt and Syanna as well, “Tell Toussaint good morning for me.” He straightened, nodded towards the moon, and vanished.


End file.
